


The Little Things

by kratqa



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Anxiety, Depression, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Social Anxiety, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Suicidal Thoughts, i'm making these tags up as i gooooooo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-08-29 09:40:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16741582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kratqa/pseuds/kratqa
Summary: Sometimes it's the little things that make big changes. A small decision might have a strong impact on someone. A minor act of kindness can have a butterfly effect.This is a story of how Evan Hansen met Connor Murphy's sad gaze and was the only one to understand.





	1. A Simple Milkshake

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not where i'm going with this fic yet so i'm probably gonna change a lot in the tags, sorry about that ://
> 
> for now enjoy the first chapter!

Evan's movements are almost mechanical as he prepares another drink, probably the thousandth this morning. Black coffee, no sugar or milk, but with one biscuit. He hands it over to Alana, who's supposed to bring it to the customer.

He looks at the clock on the wall across the room. 12:16. In about 15 minutes they're going to switch roles. Now, he's gonna have to do all the "social work", which translates to the hell of him being just a sweating, stuttering mess of a human for next two hours straight.

God, why did he agree to any of that?

He thought it would be good to listen to his therapist for once and he already regrets it. And well, he's not surprised.

But after he's started, there's no coming back because his mom seems prouder of him than she's ever been and Evan has grown tired of having the full time job of a family dissapointment.

But at least he has the facility of his deal with Alana. She's not good with social interactions either, so switching after a few hours seemed like a good idea.

Evan's body is still tense, though. It's not a good day, he claims, hoping it could calm him down in any way. In fact, it doesn't help at all and this "not good day" makes him want to swallow another pill of Ativan. His hand reaches into his pocket almost instinctively, but it stops, stuck in the air.

He doesn't know why. He's... unsure.

There's something there, and although it feels like it's buried dozens of feet underground, it's still somewhere inside of him, making him hesitant. He can sense this feeling that something is about to change.

It's weird.

The sensation slips through his fingers and he can't catch it, and somehow at the same time it's not getting away quickly. He's letting it go, slowly, but he doesn't have much control over it. It just goes, flows with a non existent wind.

And soon, he just forgets.

* * *

 It's 1:06 pm now.

With his fingers scratching nervously on the surface of the pencil he's holding pressed tightly onto his little notebook, he looks around the coffee shop. He sighs with relief, realizing he's done with most of the customers, at least for now. Most of the conversations he's already had were brief and awkward, but he tried to cheer himself up with the fact how helpful and polite he tried to be. To these people, it probably doesn't matter. They're here to just have a drink or a snack, right? He still feels like he's being constantly judged, though.

Finally he tells himself to shut up and proceeds to wait on the new people he noticed.

He takes an order from one table, then the other one. It's going pretty quick. He's doing it like he's in a trance. Another customer, another coffee, another cake...

Until he spots a familiar face. It brings him backs, throwing him brutally into reality, so fast that he just stands here, frozen.

Because here, where Evan is now, in the corner of the room, he sees the stooped figure of the creature known as Connor Murphy.

Anxiety rises in Evan's throat, his body is floating in cold water and he's desperately trying to keep his head in the air. But he can't move.

A moment passes. Connor doesn't seem to acknowledge his presence and Evan's glad because all he can do in this split second is just stare at him.

Evan is scared of him.

Everybody is scared of Connor Murphy.

Not everybody admits, but everyone follows the unspoken rule to never try to befriend him.

Why would they want to, anyway? Connor is the kid who takes drugs and does crazy shit, like throwing a printer at a teacher.

He rarely ever talks. He's always high. He's aggressive.

Even his own sister thinks he's a monster.

Connor is a freak.

"Um, hey" Evan says finally, his voice cracks.

Connor's head jolts up. The first thing Evan notices is his eyes. They're bloodshot, encrusted in small webs of red thin strings, furcating from under his lids farther into the surface of his whites.

He seems absent, far away.

A thought that he might be high crosses Evan's mind.

"Uh, I didn't notice you." His voice is quiet, unusually raspy. Evan doesn't remember when he's last heard it.

"Oh, i-it's fine!" He brushes it off quickly. Nobody ever does, he adds in his thoughts and again tells himself to shut up.

Connor obsereves him, carefully. As he gains more focus, Evan starts doubting the previous thought, it's not like he knows much about drugs anyway.

They're just looking at each other for a long second awkwardly, and Evan only now realizes Connor is non verbally asking what he's doing.

Neither of them get into random chit chats with each other or just anyone in general, so Evan understands the question.

"I-I'm Evan, Evan Hansen. We go to school together." Why is he saying that? Just let that guy order his damn food and walk away. It's as simple as that.

He just wants to say "Sorry, it's stupid. I'm stupid.", but that would make him sound even more stupid, wouldn't it? Oh God, what is he dragging himself into again? Why is he doing this?

Maybe it's because Connor doesn't have any friends, and neither does Evan. Maybe it's because he's sometimes wondering why Connor is the way he is. Maybe it's because Evan sometimes sees him in the school corridor and he never looks happy. Maybe it's because Evan looks at him now, realizes how pale his cheeks are, how greasy and messy his hair is, how chapped his lips are. Maybe it's because only now he sees why Connor's eyes are so red.

Maybe it's because he sees Connor has been crying.

"Oh, right." This still doesn't answer Connor's question.

Evan thinks bringing up what he's thinking about isn't a good idea.

"Umm, I mean... A-anyway, I'm working here. What would you like to eat or drink?" He's hand is fidgetting with the hem of his shirt almost manically. He might throw up. Or have a heart attack. Or both at the same time.

"Oh" It suddenly makes sense to Connor.

He looks down again, searching something in the menu. After a few seconds he decides.

"One milkshake."

"Small or large?"

Connor buries his hand in the pocket of his jeans and takes out its contents. A bunch of coins scatter on the table, around the modest amount of crumpled bills, filling the void of the café's meaningless hum with metallic clatter. He counts the money quickly, mouthing consecutive numbers absent-mindedly.

After he finishes, he leans back with a sigh of annoyance, dissapointment and the bitter sense of "of course, why would anything good ever happen to me?". So many emotions for a regular milkshake.

It's not difficult to guess it goes far beyond that.

"Small, then." He states, his voice is even more silent. He sounds as if he was sick or trying to ignore a huge headache.

It gives Evan chills.

He doesn't know how to behave in such moment. He decides further small talk would be useless, maybe even a bit inaproppriate. He nods and scribbles down a bunch of shaky crooked lines that are supossed to resemble words; he doesn't even have to know what he has written down here, he remembers, he knows he'll remember for the rest of day, maybe tommorow too.

For the first time, such a trivial thing as a milkshake feels like it's weighing him down with a huge burden.

Because he suddenly understands... Well, not entirely.

What this milkshake is, isn't his business. But he might be the only one to see that this is deeper. Maybe only he can see in what state this person is. Connor Murphy. A living ghost. He looks dead, doesn't he? Or maybe Evan is just making this all up because his anxiety has finally dragged him crazy. Maybe he's just desperate to have someone to relate to.

It's weird. This day is weird. This whole situation is just weird because of him.

He's overthinking again.

He retreats to the kitchen and returns with a freshly made milkshake after a few minutes.

"I made it large." He says. "It's on me."

* * *

 A few hours have passed since his unexpected gift and Connor is in his bed, shifting restlessly. He tries lying prone, on his back, left side, right side... He repeats the cycle multiple times but nothing seems to work.

Even turning upside down with his upper body on the ground. That's the position he's now in, by the way. He can practically taste the carpet.

"Nice" he mutters to himself, grumpily.

His body is begging him to finally get some sleep and though his mind is clouded with exhaustion, he can't.

He's even too tired to get angry about it.

"Great."

He has to settle for this mild annoyance. At this point he could even pray for a short nap and he's never been a religious person.

The memory of that small, kind gesture leaving him baffled was still pervasively in the back of his head. It still weirds him out how much impact it had... For the first time in months he felt like he wasn't invisible. Someone saw him. Connor wasn't alone. And that was enough. Enough to stop him from what he felt he could have done today if one more bad thing had happened.

Today he was on the edge. And even a brief push of the wind could make him fall.

But it didn't. He was still there. All because of a goddamn milkshake.

It's kind of funny, isn't it?

So he just sat there, suddenly forgetting to speak, and before he could remember, he was already watching Evan go, quickly, with a nervous stiffness in his movements.

Gone.

He reaches to the bedside table with a groan to find his phone. A few scratches on the screen shine briefly in the dim light of Connor's room, as he pulls it closer. When he turns it on, a moment passes before his eyes adjust to the brightness of the screen.

It's 3:21AM.

He turns it off, then on again, and off, and on. He's waiting for something, he's not sure what. A change? Next minute? Next hour?

He turns it on again. The last digit has changed.

He sighs.

He's really just waiting for himself to just stop being so hesitant. He needs to do something. Thank Evan, at least. But he can't push himself to do it. He couldn't do it a minute ago, nor an hour ago, nor then, right after _that_ happened.

It's too late now, he thinks.

Stupid excuses.

He's just unsure. That's it.

"Fuck that." He mumbles, types "Evan Hansen" into the Facebook search engine and sends him a single message.

_Thank_ _you._

That's all it says. Short, simple, clear.

But it's already haunting him. It has always been, if he had to be honest, but in much broader sense. It's the kind of thing that you never tell anyone; because it's hard to explain or because you're just ashamed. You see, when you feel like nobody's there, the simpliest gestures can give you hope. And it sounds so good, so healing, so beautiful, doesn't it? But with hope can come dissapointments. That's what has always made Connor think too much. What if the thing that means so much to him, doesn't matter to anyone else?

And then he just feels so stupid to ever hope for anything. But he's so desperate, he does it anyway.

Isolation, hope, dissapointment. Isolation, hope, dissapointment. Isolation, hope, dissapointment.

It's always the same, it repeats again and again, and he just wants to stop it all. Those thoughts, spiralling in his head. They're doing it right now. Why can't they stop for once?

Suddenly, something brings him, or, more accuratelly, punches him back to reality. His mind goes blank, his heart jumps abruptly in his chest and his phone almost slips out of his hand.

It buzzed. A message.

_No problem._

It's silent for a moment. Then three dots pop out on the screen, suggesting that Evan is typing. They disappear after a moment and appear again for a second.

Evan's hesitation is stuck in the air along with Connor's expectancy, which is weird, considering not both of them is physically there.

One of the longest minutes in Connor's life passes, and he starts to think that's how their conversation ends.

But it's not.

_You_ _looked sad._

After that, Evan goes offline. Connor, with his mind completely blank, stares at the message for some time, lays his phone somewhere on the floor and falls asleep right there and now. He's had enough today.

And when he's gradually drifting off into unconsciousness, this phrase is echoing in his mind to the point he's certain he just hallicunated it.


	2. The Same, But Different

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor is a crybaby. Evan apologizes way too much.
> 
> But for the first time these facts lead to a positive outcome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there were some problem with this chapter so it took quite a long time to write it uhhh
> 
> this also might be kind of a mess, because it turned out completely different from what it was supposed to be???
> 
> anyway, hope you enjoy!!

Connor surives the night getting a not-so-bad-but-not-really-good-either amount of sleep, same with the rest of this week's nights.

A few days since the message passed, leaving nothing new or different. No conversations with Evan, no drinks at the café, or... anything interesting actually. Just him, his room and boredom as his only companion. And depression, occasionally. Well, laying down in bed and hating himself for not having energy to do anything productive is his main hobby these days.

He growls to himself, as much as he wants to make it sound funny, it still seems pretty fucking sad, doesn't it? He's just tired, of all these thoughts about how useless he is weighing down on his chest and Connor can't move. He just feels awful. His body is motionless, but it isn't getting him anywhere. It's not providing him rest, not with this approach to his health. It's not helping him stress less, it's doing completely the opposite of that and all he can think of is how much he hates what he's doing to himself.

But he can't stop. It's just so hard to snap out of it, sometimes.

And after this dozen of hours spent on doing absolutely nothing, he's sick of it. He doesn't want to think about it. He needs to get out.

He gets up with a grunt and, God, his body is so exhausted. It's like his physical form is on the verge of falling apart and the spiritual one feels nothing and everything at once. He's used to it at this point, but that doesn't make him feel any better.

Although he hasn't done anything particularly tiring, his fatigue is pretty justified. He hasn't taken good care of himself lately...

His stomach is aching as if it's trying to consume itself, because the last meal he had was yesterday's breakfast - a stale toast with some orange juice. Everything to avoid his family, sitting at the same table with him, telling him how he's wasting his summer, like he didn't know that all along. Only in this little piece of this house that belongs to him, locked of course, he can do what he wants, which in this situation was: pretend he doesn't exist.

And willfully mistreat himself, he has to admit. No eating, no drinking, no showering, no moving... But he decided finish this, he's going out today.

Connor opens his closet and shuffles through it perfunctorily. Black, grey, black, black again... It's a true sanctuary of teenage angst. He picks some underwear, an oversized t-shirt and skinny jeans - this set is a standard, without much thought into it, chosen intuitionally, you might even say.

He grabs the clothing and heads to the bathroom. He hopes he won't have to encounter anyone on his way, especially his father. The anger of Larry Murphy is definitely not what he needs right now. Luckily for Connor, the corridor is empty and free of daily arguments of his fucked up family.

Though the cold embrace of showering water finally, truly wakes him up, it's relaxing. Refreshing. After he washes his hair and body, he takes a minute to just stand there and let the water pour down on him. It's always a good feeling, on days like this. Like regaining balance, just a tiny bit actually, because he knows he can't really trust himself in those things; the good moments never last long. But that's why he sometimes lets himself slow down and enjoy them.

Within a quarter, he's ready to set off. He visits the kitchen briefly to grab a candy bar.

"Where are you going?" He hears his mother calling from behind.

"Out." Connor answers laconically, not even looking at her, and sets off.

* * *

He's travelling through the alleys of a nearby park, not thinking much, just wandering around without a specific destination. He's letting himself get lost, in some way. Going deeper in the blankness of his mind, he loses the track of time. So he walks and walks, until he forgets that he's walking, breathing or even existing. He's just there, not focusing or anything bad or good. Going further and further.

But then, he notices someone. A familiar silhoutte on the other side of the street. He can't be sure it's the person he thinks it is, but... He needs to know. So he continues walking and as the distance between them is becoming smaller his stomach is gradually tightening with some sort of anxiety. Why is he scared? He shouldn't be.

He was right, it turns out finally. Because, in fact, now he has to face Evan Hansen, the person he owes his life to, the person who saved him and probably doesn't have any idea about it.

When their eyes meet, Evan tenses up visibly and Connor supposes he does the exact same thing, but he continues to close the remaining gap between them. He raises his hand to wave hello, but it doesn't quite work out because with sudden hesitation, it's left hanging in the air motionlessly for a split second. Wait, what the hell?, he thinks. It's as if his body was suddenly knocked out by some undescribably strong inner force. A shivery emotion, it's the best way to put it. It doesn't make sense, but that's exactly how it feels; strange.

It starts somewhere deep, becoming bigger at an overwheling speed. It's growing, like an alien creature... It's taking over his body, it's pumping in his veins, it's present in the air he's breathing.

And it wants to get out. With a cry.

It's weird how enormous it seems, when that's all it is. Connor just wants to cry. It's funny how he thinks of simple emotions as demons, but it's not surprising. After all, he finds comfort in the lack of them.

He tries to shut it up in himself with all his strength. He can't let it out. Not now.

"O-oh, hey," Evan stutters out.

A beat of silence. A really awkward one.

"Um, so... What are you doing here?" Connor asks, trying to intiate some small talk.

"Going for, uh, a walk?"

"Right... Of course. Me too."

Another beat. Connor notices Evan has a problem with keeping eye contact, his gaze is constantly going back to his hands which are fiddling with his cast.

He wonders how Evan broke his arm, but decides not to ask.

"You looked sad." He finally speaks what's on his mind and before the questioning look on Evan's face can become a sentence, Connor explains: "Your message. What did you mean?"

Evan's face goes pale, suddenly.

"I-I... I didn't- It's nothing, really." He tries to brush it off, which comes out more defensively than he seemed to intend. His words are a mess. He finally gives up sighs. "I'm sorry for bothering you."

He's not just anxious as always, Connor realizes. He's intimidated. Of course, he would be. Connor is a freak.

"No, no, no... Listen. I thanked you, so you replied. That's it. I'm not angry or anything. I just wanted to know what you meant..." With every word, Connor can feel himself becoming more uncomfortable.

Isolation, hope, dissapointment. Stage two. Is the cycle going to repeat itself this time, too?

Evan searches for something to say, but Connor interrupts him.

"You know what? Nevermind." He's almost ready to leave. He needs to escape.

Connor turns away, his insides are burning with regret. I'm an idiot, he thinks. Such an idiot. He's looking for something deeper in things that don't mean anything, isn't he?

He takes a step further, away from Evan. He could never help running from things that scare him, he can't do it now. He can't face the dissapointment stage again. He wishes this conversation didn't happen. Such an idiot. He wishes he could just disappear right here and now.

Dissapointment, dissapointment again. He doesn't want this. He needs to go.

Except he's stopped. He feels a grasp on his wrist.

"Wait." Evan's voice is quiet. Connor turns his head to look at him. There's something in Evan's eyes he would never think he would see in this boy. He can't quite tell what it is, besides that it feels so unlike Evan. A weird change. It doesn't belong in this anxiety-filled kid who never talks to anyone, it's too calm for him, so determined. "You just looked... not okay."

A moment of shock passes.

Connor feels endangered. When the flight response doesn't work, fighting takes the lead.

"You didn't have to take pity on me. I don't need it." It sounds cold. That's not how he should be treating the person who saved his life.

Connor is just weak. His anger is his defense. He can't control it. He can't help but cave in to it. That's why he's always hurting people.

They don't deserve to be treated like that. Only he does.

Why did Evan still show him kindness? Why did he think Connor deserved it?

He should let go now, realize how much of an asshole Connor is. But his grip is still firm.

"It's not about pity. I just thought... That maybe I understand."

"Understand what?" He's yelling. God, why can't he just act like a normal human being for once? Shut up, he tells himself. Shut the fuck up before you hurt another person who just wanted to help.

"You."

Isolation, hope, dissapointment. Where is the dissapointment? What is happening?

The situation is different for once and he's ruining it. What the fuck is he doing?

He pulls his arm out of Evan's hand rapidly and backs away. It's getting hard to breathe.

Fuck, he needs to go. He can't spoil anything else. He needs to-

Cry.

Connor is crying. His chest is shaken by a sob, like shudder. He can't stop it now, tears are already rolling down his face.

"Is this some fucking joke?" His voice cracks. Perfect, truly wonderful. He's a fucking crybaby.

Just joke, he repeats in his head. Sounds like the only rational explanation. But then again, look at the mess he's gotten himself into, he's publicly crying. The feeling of exposure is suffocating him.

If people in school find out, he's going to be dead there. He already couldn't get through a week without skipping class or being high last year and when the bullies will realize how fucked up he really is, what is he going to do?

He buries his face in his hands and tries to ignore the urge to curl up on the ground and just snivel insanely, as if he lost it completely.

"I'm not-" Evan is cut off again.

"Go away. Just please, go away."

He doesn't want to be seen this way and he refuses to see Evan too, he's pushing his fingers harder onto his skin, so his eyes can only see darkness, but, although he wishes desperately he could, he can't protect his mind from imagining... A mix of confusion, pity and fear, that's how their faces always look. All these people who had the opportunity to get to know his ugly side. At first, they can't comprehend it, when he breakes down over the stupidest of things. And then they start to pity him for how bad he can get, but pity isn't the same thing as sympathy... Pity is when you can feel someone's pain, but you know you have it better. Connor is sick of it, they could never understand him. Why are they always pretending they can? It's all just for show. "Such a pity","What shame", "He's so young", all they're really saying is how much of a failure he is by sinking so low, while his life could be so perfect. They're looking down on him. He hates pity. He hates it so much. And then, comes fear, an even worse part. When they look at him with this thing in their eyes, even though they now they're better than that... It just scares them how low a human being can fall. It's like they're watching an injured animal in a cage. Connor is like a creature who's been hurt badly and all he can do is just growl at everyone in defense or hide in the corner and whimper miserably.

"I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"

What is Evan apologizing for?

"Just go." Connor sounds so pathetic.

"I-I-I wasn't joking at all, really. L-listen, nobody's laughing at you."

He's trying to be supportive and Connor just sobs. He messed this up, he really did.

"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry." Evan says.

And although Connor just wants to be left alone, Evan's words hit him in some way.

"For what?" He doesn't understand, it's him who should be sorry, not Evan. It's unfair.

"For e-everything. T-talking about your personal stuff... I should've minded my own bussiness."

"What?" Connor removes his hands from over his eyes. He needs to squint for a second, because the sunlight is prickling his vulnerable eyeballs.

After a moment, he can see a sincere look of embarrasment on Evan's face. Like he really has done something to be ashamed of.

Letting out a loud laugh of pure disbelief is something that's beyond Connor's control.

"What are you laughing at?" Evan asks, startled.

"Are serious? You're sorry for something like this?"

His face turns red, it's just ridiculous.

"I'm the one who's yelling and telling you to leave and you're apologizing for trying to help me regardless of me being such an asshole?"

Evan looks down even more embarrased, still blushing.

"I apologize for a lot of things," he mutters.

Oh, so that's it. Connor thinks he gets it now. Evan's just the type who apologizes for absolutely everything, because he feels like he's the one to blame. The insecure type. It would make sense actually, why he's trying so hard to help. They're both just losers.

"Then, maybe you should do it less." Connor pauses for a moment. "And maybe I... should do it more often."

They're the same, but different.

He takes a shaky step further and, with his gaze pinned to his shoes, he takes a deep breath. Evan deserves an apology from him.

"I'm sorry for treating you like shit."

He raises his head a little, with some sort of timidness, unusual for him. Though Evan's eyes are full of uncertainty, he gives him an honest smile. Connor hasn't seen something like that for quite a while, not directed at him, at least. He can't help smiling back and it's so weirdly reassuring.

It's like a string of understanding was tied between them. Or trust, maybe.

Connor thinks Evan can see that too.

It's something they share, though they don't know what it is... yet. But it's this moment Connor decides he wants to follow that something. Now he knows, there's no dissapointment this time.

"I guess, we're even, then."

Connor shakes his head.

"Not yet." He has an idea. "Not until I buy you a milkshake."

It's Evan who's laughing in disbelief now. It's a quiet, soft laugh and hearing it makes Connor smile wider.

Evan shrugs, but he's most certainly not indifferent. He seems... happy.

"Seems good to me."

Does it mean they're... friends now?

This thought makes Connor feel like some nercrotized part of him is being brought to life again.

He puts his hands in his pockets to seem more relaxed, which probably still doesn't provide the result he wanted, considering that his eyes are still puffy and his cheeks are damp, but he ignores it and leads Evan along the way.

"Evan?" He asks as they're going.

"What?"

"Can you... not tell anyone what happened today?"

"O-of course. Sure."

We're sharing a secret then, Connor thinks. And though the idea of how much Evan has seen today of what Connor never wanted anyone to see... He's glad that he was noticed by him. He's happy that he met Evan Hansen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, just a quick note: i'm sorry if i fail to update this regularly lmao i'm not good at this as you can see


	3. Leaving A Mark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Through friendship, an experience that's new to both of them, Evan and Connor realize how much they can affect one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote most of this chapter a few months ago and only finished it now so it might be a bit inconsistent.
> 
> also idk if adding physical descriptions of the characters made sense, but it's there so 
> 
> enjoy the chapter lol

The sweetness of the cold vanilla milkshake Connor ordered for him, is surrounding Evan. It's not just the taste, it's like a feeling.

What's going on right now seems crazy to be really happening. He's actually hanging out with someone. He's talking to someone and he's just mildly anxious. His attempt to reach out to someone didn't fail miserably... And the most shocking part: he wasn't wrong, he found a person he can relate to. And he _helped_ that person.

It feels unbelievable, knowing what he's capable of or, more accuratelly, what he's uncapable of. For all this time he's been trying but never succeeding. He thought he might never get out of this zone. It was as if his voice was too quiet to be heard and with every time no one heard its sound, it was more difficult to speak up. Every person that passed him by without a reaction made him question if he would ever be seen and... Life doesn't seem worth living when all you have is yourself. The more you sit in silence, the louder your head gets... All you can hear is these voices and eventually you can't tell which one is yours.

And now? Evan's voice is still quiet and he's stuttering, laughing nervously and fluctuating between talking way too much, way too fast and going silent because of not knowing what to say. But Connor doesn't seem to be bothered by this and it's so relieving.

After all, he seems pretty unexperienced in social interactions, too.

At first, the uncomfortable beats of silence that followed every topic were pretty hard to break through. The fact that Connor was pretty ashamed what he did earlier wasn't helping. Evan wanted to tell him that it was okay and that he will definitely never think of him as a weak crybaby or tell anyone, but he promised not to bring that up, so he settled for pretending he'd already forgotten about this situation.

How Connor acted when they were talking, at the beggining, amused Evan a bit. The fact that he was trying to seem way tougher than he actually was, was pretty obvious. Whenever there was an opinion to say, Connor tried to neutralize it, finishing it with "but whatever", so he doesn't seem passionate or upset about anything.

"...But whatever. I don't care much about it, y'know." It was probably the fifth time, Evan assumes.

He laughed at that softly and Connor gave him a questioning look.

"I get it, okay? You don't have to tell me that you 'don't care' everytime I ask you something." He said, doing quotation marks with his hands.

Connor shrugged at that, which was essentially just another forced "whatever", but non-verbal this time. Evan shook his head, biting back a tiny smile growing on his lips.

And, as their conversation progressed, they both started relaxing, opening up slowly.

There's one thing that still surprises Evan more than anything in this world. It's how different Connor turned out to be from what Evan could ever assume and from what people say about this. Some could say that it's shocking how vunerable he is, but for Evan there's another thing... It's how, despite being an feared outcast, Connor is still so human. He can cry, he can feel alone, but... He can smile too. He enjoys things. He tells jokes. He laughs.

He's not just his excesses and aggression. And... he's not just his sadness either. Connor is so much more and all it takes to understand that is to just get to know him.

It's sad how nobody ever bothered to do this.

"So you like books?" Evan asks now, curiously looking at his new friend (that word still sounds weird to him, but it also makes that small feeling of excitement tingle inside his chest).

"Yeah. Quite a lot, actually." Connor nods, sipping on his milkshake.

He stares off to the distance and his face just looks so gentle, Evan assumes he's daydreaming about something he adores, which, most logically in this situation, is literature. Evan observes him, it's subconscious at first, but then he lets himself get a closer glance on Connor's appearance.

It's odd how pleasing he is to look at, considering he isn't attractive in a traditional way. He's skinny and lanky, and when he's walking, Connor reminds Evan of a clumsy spider. Evan also notices that he looks much less miserable today; though his long brown hair is pretty messy, it's not greasy anymore; Connor's cheeks have gained some blush too, so he doesn't look sickly pale.

Something catches Evan's attention, something he hasn't spotted before.

"Your eyes..."

"Partial heterochromia," Connor explains, as if he's said it a million times in his life now.

His eyes are blue, except one is half-brown. Just like Jared's.

"M-my friend has it too." Evan says and correct himself quickly. "Family friend, I mean."

Connor wonders for a bit.

"Kleinman?" He asks. It catches Evan off guard at first, but it actually makes sense that Connor guessed it right. Jared Kleinman is the only person that ever talks to Evan. Again, he's reminded how pathetic his social life presents, but today it doesn't bother him as much as it usually does.

Evan nods.

"He's kind of a dick." Connor mutters.

Well, that was pretty straightforward. But before Evan can reply, Connor realizes how rude it was of him.

"Oh, sorry. Didn't mean that."

"But you're kinda right. We just... know each other since we were kids. He was nicer back then. But hey, it's better to have anyone to hang out with than be alone." Evan shrugs and takes a sip.

It kind of hurts. At some point, Jared and him were really best friends. They spent hours sitting the treehouse in the Kleinmans' backyard, running around or playing video games. His mom would bring them snacks and Evan remembers how Jared would give all his fruits to Evan, because "it's tree food" and Jared liked to tease him for his massive interest in trees. (The other reason was that his parents wanted him to eat more healthy stuff. So he didn't do that. Out of spite.)

Where did all of this go? Why is Jared such an asshole to him now? Everytime they talk, whatever the topic is, Jared always finds something to criticize him for. His anxiety, his habits, his problems... And Evan's always left with a pang of pain in his heart, because a lot of the times what Jared says seems so true.

"I guess." Connor mutters and trails off.

There's a moment of silence.

"H-he bullied you, didn't he?"

Connor hunches a bit. His eyes are glued to something behind the window. Evan can't tell what it is.

"Everybody does. It doesn't matter." He states, scraching mindlessly the surface of the table. His nails are messily painted black, but most of the nail polish has already been chipped off.

"What about me?" Evan forgets to breathe before saying that. It's not the first time this has happened today.

"You might be the only exception." Connor admits.

The scraching gets more rapid and Connor lets his hair cover his face, as he looks down. It's not only that Evan thinks Connor is about to cry, he can practically feel a sob raising up his throat, as if they share one body for this split second.

And as fast as that feeling came, it goes away. Connor lifts his head and though his eyes are glassy, he clenches his jaw and supresses any bare sign of his feelings.

God, how can he do that so successfully?, Evan wonders. Because in this kind of situation, this is what he'd definitely be uncapable of doing.

He feels like this might be a good time to change the topic, though. But, like in every stressful situation, he hasn't got the slightest idea of what to say.

Maybe he should comfort Connor? Is this what he would want? Or would he just get mad about bringing this up?

Despite everything, Evan can't quite predict Connor's reaction to each of these scenarios. He doesn't know him well enough.

That's why Evan is waiting carefully and trying to pick what's right. In some cases, Connor is still a complete stranger to him. It scares him, the big gap of what's unknown extending between them in this brief moment.

And Evan _can't_ ruin this... this connection they seem to have. Though it's strange and full of uncertainty, he doesn't want to lose it. He's practically clinging to it. It's a new thing to him and it might be risky but... Evan feels like he needs it. And Connor probably does too.

So, what to do? - this question echoes in his mind and while Evan is absorbed by it, it's Connor who finally decides to act.

"Uh, nobody's signed your cast." he points out.

"Wha- Oh!" Evan is ripped out from his thoughts so rapidly that at first he can't understand the question, but after this split second of confusion it suddenly makes sense. "Yeah, I guess."

"I'll sign it," Connor states and ads to it quickly. "I-I mean if you want me to."

"S-sure." Evan, still a bit surprised, reaches to his pocket almost automatically. He pulls out a Sharpie and hands it to Connor with a tiny twitch of hesitation.

Connor holds it for a moment. He purses his lips, thinking.

"Can I draw something?"

"You can draw?"

"Yeah, a bit. It's a hobby, nothing special." He tries to brush it off.

"Alright, then. I'm curious to see y-your... art." Evan laughs awkwardly, observing how the last word makes Connor blush. It's barely noticable, but still.

"What do you want me to draw?" He asks.

Evan wonders for a bit. There's an internal battle between embracing his passion (that causes him to ramble on about the same thing over and over again, probably annoying or boring everyone, oh God, why can't he ever shut up?) and choosing anything that's not a tree. He looks around, but wherever he drops his gaze nothing seems to be interesting.

Uh, fine. The power of trees took over him again. Evan tells his wish sheepishly to Connor who doesn't question his choice and gets right into drawing.

Evan watches his own little tree grow within a couple of black lines. The roots, the trunk and eventually branches form their own ways to reach to the imaginary sky on the top part of his cast. Connor, biting his lip in concentration the whole time, starts covering the space between the branches with tiny leaves. After he's done with that, he adds some finishing touches, like the grass underneath the tree or a bee flying around.

Evan gives him a wide smile.

"It's perfect."

Connor, stooped over his arm, looks at him from below, uncertainty shining in his eyes, and slowly smiles back.

"Thank you," he breathes out, not able to create a sound louder than a whisper. They hold on to this moment for a second more, but Connor suddenly remembers something. "One more thing."

He opens the Sharpie with a click once again and leaves a signature on Evan's cast. Alongside of the trunk his name appears in crooked capital letters.

* * *

Connor returns home late. With Evan, the time has gone by so quickly and Connor wandered around the town a bit after that too, so the sun has already hidden itself behind the horizon.

He walks in to his house, hit with a pleasant wave of chill. He suddenly realizes two things he didn't pay attention to previously. The first is how hot it was outside all day. The second; he feels as if he's finally awake.

"Awake"? He can't even quite grasp what he himself means by that, it's just strange. _Awake_ _._ It's like he's waken up from a long, monotone dream, where nothing feels real enough to care. But how? How is it possible he didn't notice that back then? This dream felt like reality. Because it was his reality.

He's lost the sense of being alive. And now he's regaining it.

Everything's more vibrant, more fleshed out. Is he beggining to be happy with his life or something? Not really. No, he just can finally see.

And he's just sitting there, in the living room of the Murphy household he never visits, in the armchair he never bothers to sit in, dumbstruck by how clear everything is.

It's like some things finally have a meaning. His feelings, the ones that felt like meaningless pain he can't avoid - it's all... different now. But he still can't put his finger on it.

It feels like everything makes sense, except it doesn't. None of this does.

"Dammit."

Maybe he's overthinking. Maybe it's just his mind working too fast, because he's doing something different for once. Maybe there is something to really think about or maybe there isn't.

"Doesn't matter," he murmurs, content with the fact that there's no one to jest him right now.

Thinking aloud helps sometimes.

He still has a lot of figuring out to do, but for now he has to let go of this thing. Let it evolve on it's own. Whatever it is.

However, there's one thing he knows for sure; Evan made a change in him. And maybe it's good that way.

**Author's Note:**

> quick information: i am thirsty for your opinions 👀 (some constructive criticism would also be appreciated)


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